University  of  California  •  Berkeley 
S.  Griswold  Morley  Collection 


u<^, 


AN  INQUIRY 


ii 


INTO   SOME   OP 


THE  CONDITIONS  AT  PRESENT  AFFECTING 


THE    STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE' 


IK  OUR  SCHOOLS. 


BY   JOHN   RUSKIN. 


Read  at  the  Ordinary  General  Meeting  of  th*»  Itoyal  Institnte  of  British  Architec<s^ 
May  15th,  1865. 


NEW  YORK: 
JOHN  WH.EY  &  SON,   535   BROADWAY. 

1866. 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTUKE. 


I  SUPPOSE  there  is  Jio  man  who,  permitted  to  address,  for  the 
first  time,  the  Institute  of  British  Architects,  would  not  feel 
himself  abashed  and  restrained,  doubtful  of  his  claim  to  be 
heard  by  them,  even  if  he  attempted  only  to  describe  what 
had  come  under  his  personal  observation,  much  more  if  on 
the  occasion  he  thought  it  would  be  expected  of  him  to 
touch  upon  any  of  the  general  principles  of  the  art  of  archi- 
tecture before  its  principal  English  masters.  * 

But  if  any  more  than  another  should  feel  thus  abashed,  it 
is  certainly  one  who  has  first  to  ask  their  pardon  for  the  petu- 
lance of  boyish  expressions  of  partial  thought ;  for  ungrace- 
ful advocacy  of  principles  which  needed  no  support  from 
him,  and  discourteous  blame  of  work  of  which  he  had  never 
fell  the  difficulty. 

Yet,  when  I  ask  this  pardon,  gentlemen — and  I  do  it  sin 
cerely  and  in  shame — it  is  not  as  desiring  to  retract  anything 
in  the  general  tenor  and  scope  of  what  I  have  hitherto  tried 


4  THE   STUDY   OF   AKCHITECTURE. 

to  say.     Permit  me  the  pain,  and  the  apparent  impertinence, 
of  speaking  for  a  moment  of  my  own  past  work ;  for  it  is 
necessary  that  what  I  am  about  to  submit  to  you  to-night 
should  be  spoken  in  no  disadvantageous  connexion  with  that ; 
and  yet  understood  as  spoken  in  no  discordance  of  purpose 
with  that.     Indeed,  there  is  much  in  old  work  of  mine  which 
I  could  wish  to  put  out  of  mind.     Reasonings,  perhaps  not 
in   themselves  false,  but  founded   on   insufficient   data   and 
imperfect  experience — eager  preferences,  and  dislikes,  depen- 
dent on  cliance  circumstances  of  association,  and  limitations 
of  sphere  of  labour :  but,  while  I  would  fain  now,  if  I  could, 
modify  the  applications,  and  chasten  the  extravagance  of  my 
writings,  let  me  also  say  of  them  that  they  were  the  expres- 
sion of  a  delight  in  the  art  of  architecture  which  was  too 
intense  to  be  vitally  deceived,  and  of  an  inquiry  too  honest 
and  eager  to  be 'without  some  useful  result ;  and  I  only  wish 
I  had  now  time,  and  strength,  and  power  of  mind,  to  carry 
on,  more  worthily,  the  main   endeavour  of  my  early  work. 
That  main  endeavour  has  been  throughout  to  set  forth  the  life 
of  the  individual  human  spirit  as  modifying  the  application 
of  the  formal  laws  of  architecture,  no  less  than  of  all  other 
arts ;  and  to  show  that  the  power  and  advance  of  this  art, 
even  in  conditions  of  formal  nobleness,  were  dependent  on  its 
just  association  with  sculpture  as  a  means  of  expressing  the 
beauty  of  natural  forms :  and  I  the  more  boldly  ask  your 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTUEE.  5 

permission  to  insist  somewhat  on  this  main  meaning  of  my 
past  work,  because  there  are  many  buildings  now  rising  in 
the  streets  of  London,  as  in  other  cities  of  England,  which 
aijpear  to  be  designed  in  accordance  with  this  principle,  and 
which  are,  I  believe,  more  offensive  to  all  who  thoughtfully 
concur  with  me  in  accepting  the  principle  of  Naturalism  than 
they  are  to  the  classical  architect  to  whose  modes  of  design 
they  are  visibly  antagonistic.  These  buildings,  in  which  the 
mere  cast  of  a  flower,  or  the  realization  of  a  vulgar  face, 
carved  without  pleasure  by  a  workman  who  is  only  endea- 
vouring to  attract  attention  by  novelty,  and  then  fastened  on, 
or  appearing  to  be  fastened,  as  chance  may  dictate,  to  an 
arch,  or  a  pillar,  or  a  wall,  hold  such  relation  to  nobly  natu- 
ralistic architecture  as  common  sign-painter's  furniture  land- 
scapes do  to  painting,  or  commonest  wax-work  to  Greek 
sculpture;  and  the  feelings  with  which  true  naturalists  regard 
such  buildings  of  this  class  are,  as  nearly  as  might  be,  what 
a  painter  would  experience,  if,  having  contended  earnestly 
against  conventional  schools,  and  having  asserted  that  the 
Greek  vase-painting,  and  Egyptian  wall-painting,  and  Medias- 
val  glass-painting,  though  beautiful,  aU,  in  their  place  and 
way,  were  yet  subordinate  arts,  and  culminated  only  in  per- 
fectly naturalistic  work  such  as  Raphael's  in  fresco,  and 
Titian's  on  canvas ; — if,  I  say,  a  painter,  fixed  in  such  faith 
in  an  entire,  intellectual,  and  manly  truth,  and  maintaining* 


6  THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE. 

that  an  Egyptian  profile  of  a  head,  liowever  decoratively 
applicable,  was  only  noble  for  such  human  truth  as  it  con- 
tained, and  was  imperfect  and  ignoble  beside  a  work  of 
Titian's,  were  shown,  by  his  antagonist,  the  colored  daguer- 
reotype of  a  human  body  in  its  nakedness,  and  told  that  it 
was  art  such  as  that  which  he  really  advocated,  and  to  such 
art  that  his  principles,  if  carried  out,  would  finally  lead. 

And  because  this  question  lies  at  the  very  root  of  the 
organization  of  the  system  of  instruction  for  our  youth,  I 
venture  boldly  to  express  the  surprise  and  regret  with  which 
T  see  our  schools  still  agitated  by  assertions  of  the  opposi- 
tion of  Naturalism  to  Invention,  and  to  the  higher  conditions 
of  art.  Even  in  this  very  room  I  believe  there  has  lately 
been  question  whether  a  sculptor  should  look  at  a  real  living 
creature  of  which  he  had  to  carve  the  image.  I  would 
answer  in  one  sense, — no  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  ought  to  carve  no 
living  creature  while  he  still  needs  to  look  at  it.  If  we  do 
not  know  what  a  human  body  is  like,  we  certainly  had  better 
look,  and  look  often,  at  it,  before  we  carve  it ;  but  if  we 
already  know  the  human  likeness  so  well  that  we  can  carve  it 
by  light  of  memory,  we  shall  not  need  to  ask  whether  we 
ought  now  to  look  at  it  or  not ;  and  what  is  true  of  man  is 
true  of  all  other  creatures  and  organisms — of  bird,  and 
beast,  and  leaf.  No  assertion  is  more  at  variance  with  th( 
•laws  of  classical  as  well  as  of  subsequent  art  than  the  com 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  7 

mon  one  that  species  should  not  be  distinguished  in  great 
design.  We  might  as  well  say  that  we  ought  to  carve  a  man 
so  as  not  to  know  him  from  an  ape,  as  that  we  should  carve 
a  lily  so  as  not  to  know  it  from  a  thistle.  It  is  difficult  for 
me  to  conceive  how  this  can  be  asserted  in  the  presence  of 
any  remains  either  of  great  Greek  or  Italian  art.  A  Greek 
looked  at  a  cockle-shell  or  a  cuttle-fish  as  carefully  as  he 
^ooked  at  an  Olympic  conqueror.  The  eagle  of  Elis,  the 
lion  of  Velia,  the  horse  of  Syracuse,  the  bull  of  Thurii,  the 
dolphin  of  Tarentum,  the  crab  of  Agrigentura,  and  the  craw- 
fish of  Catana,  are  studied  as  closely,  every  one  of  them,  as 
the  Juno  of  Argos,  or  Apollo  of  Clazomenae.  Idealism,  so 
far  from  being  contrary  to  special  truth,  is  the  very  abstrac- 
tion of  specialty  from  everything  else.  It  is  the  earnest 
statement  of  the  characters  which  make  man  man,  and  cockle 
cockle,  and  flesh  flesh,  and  fish  fish.  Feeble  thinkers 
indeed,  always  suppose  that  distinction  of  kind  involves 
meanness  of  style  ;  but  the  meanness  is  in  the  treatment,  not 
in  the  distinction.  There  is  a  noble  way  of  carving  a  man, 
and  a  mean  one ;  and  there  is  a  noble  way  of  carving  a 
beetle,  and  a  mean  one ;  and  a  great  sculptor  carves  his  scara 
baeus  grandly,  as  he  carves  his  king,  while  a  mean  sculptor 
makes  vermin  of  both.  And  it  is  a  sorrowful  truth,  yet  a 
sublime  one,  that  this  greatness  of  treatment  cannot  be 
taught  by  talking  about  it.     No,  nor  even  by  enforced  imi- 


8  THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTUEE. 

tative  practice  of  it.  Men  treat  their  subjects  nobly  only 
■when  Ihey  themselves  become  noble ;  not  till  then.  And 
that  elevation  of  their  own  nature  is  assuredly  not  to  be 
effected  by  a  course  of  drawing  from  models,  however  well 
chosen,  or  of  Hstening  to  lectures,  however  well  intendea! 

Art,  national  or  individual,  is  the  result  of  a  long  course 
of  previous  life  and  training ;  a  necessary  result,  if  that  life 
has  been  loyal,  and  an  impossible  one,  if  it  has  been  base. 
Let  a  nation  be  healthful,  happy,  pure  in  its  enjoyments, 
brave  in  its  acts,  and  broad  in  its  affections,  and  its  art  will 
spring  round  and  within  it  as  freely  as  the  foam  from  a  foun- 
tain ;  but  let  the  springs  of  its  life  be  impure,  and  its  course 
polluted,  and  you  will  not  get  the  bright  spray  by  treatises 
on  the  mathematical  structure  of  bubbles. 

And  I  am  to-night  the  more  restrained  in  addressing  you, 
because,  gentlemen — ^I  tell  you  honestly — I  am  weary  of  all 
writing  and  speaking  about  art,  and  most  of  my  own.  No 
good  is  to  be  reached  that  way.  The  last  fifty  years  have,  in 
every  civilized  country  of  Europe,  produced  more  brilliant 
thought,  and  more  subtle  reasoning  about  art,  than  the  five 
thousand  before  them ;  and  what  has  it  all  come  to  ?  Do  not 
let  it  be  thought  that  I  am  Insensible  to  the  high  merits  of 
much  of  our  modern  work.  It  cannot  be  for  a  moment  sup- 
posed that  in  speaking  of  the  inefficient  expression  of  the 
doctrines  which  writers  on  art  have  tried  to  enforce,  I  was 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  9 

thinking  of  such  Gothic  as  has  been  designed  and  built  by 
Mr.  Scott,  Mr.  Butterfield,  Mr.  Street,  Mr.  Waterhouse,  Mr. 
Godwin,  or  my  dead  friend,  Mr.  Woodward.  Their  work 
has  been  original  and  independent.  So  far  as  it  is  good,  it 
has  been  founded  on  principles  learned  not  from  books,  but 
by  study  of  the  monuments  of  the  great  schools,  developed 
by  national  grandeur,  not  by  philosophical  speculation.  But 
I  am  entirely  assured  that  those  who  have  done  best  among 
us  are  the  least  satisfied  with  what  they  have  done,  and  will 
admit  a  sorrowful  concurrence  in  my  belief  that  the  spirit,  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  the  dispirit,  of  the  age,  is  heavily 
against  them;  that  all  the  ingenious  writing  or  thinking 
which  is  so  rife  amongst  us  has  failed  to  educate  a  public 
capable  of  taking  true  pleasure  in  any  kind  of  art,  and  that 
the  best  designers  never  satisfy  their  own  requirements  of 
themselves,  unless  by  vainly  addressing  another  temper  of 
mind,  and  providing  for  another  manner  of  life,  than  ours. 
All  lovely  architecture  was  designed  for  cities  in  cloudless 
air ;  for  cities  in  which  piazzas  and  gardens  opened  in  bright 
populousness  and  peace;  cities  built  that  men  might  live 
happily  in  them,  and  take  delight  daily  in  each  other's  pre- 
sence and  powers.  But  our  cities,  built  in  black  air,  which, 
by  its  accumulated  foulness,  first  renders  all  ornament  invisi- 
ble in  distance,  and  then  chokes  its  interstices  with  soot ; 

cities  which   are  mere  crowded  masses  of  store,  and  ware- 

l* 


10  THE  STUDr  OF   AECHITECTUKE. 

house,  and  counter,  and  are  therefore  to  the  rest  of  the 
world  what  the  larder  and  cellar  are  to  a  private  house ; 
cities  in  which  the  object  of  men  is  not  life,  but  labour;  and 
in  which  all  chief  magnitude  of  edifice  is  to  enclose  machi- 
nery ;  cities  in  which  the  streets  are  not  the  avenues  for  the 
passing  and  procession  of  a  happy  people,  but  the  drains  for 
the  discharge  of  a  tormented  mob,  in  which  the  only  object 
In  reaching  any  spot  is  to  be  transferred  to  another ;  in  which 
existence  becomes  mere  transition,  and  every  creature  is  only 
one  atom  in  a  drift  of  human  dust,  and  current  of  inter- 
changing particles,  circulating  here  by  tunnels  under  ground, 
and  there  by  tubes  in  the  air;  for  a  city,  or  cities,  such  as 
this,  no  architecture  is  possible — nay,  no  desire  of  it  is  possi- 
ble to  their  inhabitants. 

One  of  the  most  singular  proofs  of  the  vanity  of  all  hope 
that  conditions  of  art  may  be  combined  w^ith  the  occupations 
of  such  a  city,  has  been  given  lately  in  the  design  of  the  new 
iron  bridge  over  the  Thames  at  Blackfriars.  Distinct 
attempt  has  been  there  made  to  obtain  architectural  efiect  on 
a  grand  scale.  Nor  was  there  anything  in  the  nature  of  the 
work  to  prevent  such  an  effort  being  successful.  It  is  not  an 
edifice's  being  of  iron,  or  of  glass,  or  thrown  into  new  forms, 
demanded  by  new  purposes,  which  need  hinder  its  being 
beautiful.  But  it  is  the  absence  of  all  desire  of  beauty,  of 
all  joy  in  fancy,  and  of  all  freedom  in  thought.     If  a  Greek, 


THE   STUDY   OF   ARCHITECTUKE.  11 

or  Egyptian,  or  Gothic  architect  had  been  required  to  design 
such  a  bridge,  he  would  have  looked  instantly  at  the  main 
conditions  of  its  structure,  and  dwelt  on  them  with  the 
delight  of  imagination.  He  would  have  seen  that  the  main 
thing  to  be  done  was  to  hold  a  horizontal  group  of  iron  rods 
steadily  and  straight  over  stone  piers.  Then  he  would  have 
said  to  himself  (or  felt  without  saying),  "  It  is  this  holding, 
— ^this  grasp, — this  securing  tenor  of  a  thing  which  might  be 
shaken,  so  that  it  cannot  be  shaken,  on  which  I  have  to 
insist."  And  he  would  have  put  some  life  into  those  iron 
tenons.  As  a  Greek  put  human  life  into  his  pillars  and  pro- 
duced the  caryatid ;  and  an  Egyptian  lotus  life  into  his 
pillars,  and  produced  the  lUy  capital :  so  here,  either  of  them 
would  have  put  some  gigantic  or  some  angelic  life  into  those 
colossal  sockets.  He  would  perhaps  have  put  vast  winged 
statues  of  bronze,  folding  their  wings,  and  grasping  the  iron 
rails  with  their  hands;  or  monstrous  eagles,  or  serpents 
holding  with  claw  or  coil,  or  strong  four-footed  animals 
couchant,  holding  with  the  paw,  or  in  fierce  action,  holding 
with  teeth.  Thousands  of  grotesque  or  of  lovely  thoughts 
would  have  risen  before  him,  and  the  bronze  forms,  animal  or 
human,  would  have  signified,  either  in  symbol  or  in  legend, 
whatever  might  be  gracefully  told  respecting  the  purposes  of 
the  work  and  the  districts  to  which  it  conducted.  Whereas, 
now,  the   entire  invention   of  the   designer  seems  to  have 


12  THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE. 

exhausted  itself  in  exaggerating  to  an  enormous  size  a  weak 
form  of  iron  nut,  and  in  conveying  the  information  upon  it, 
in  large  letters,  that  it  belongs  to  the  London,  Chatham,  and 
Dover  Railway  Company.  I  believe  then,  gentlemen,  that  if 
there  were  any  life  in  the  national  mind  in  such  respects,  it 
would  be  shown  in  these  its  most  energetic  and  costly  works. 
But  that  there  is  no  such  life,  nothing  but  a  galvanic  restless- 
ness and  covetousness,  with  which  it  is  for  the  present  vain 
to  strive ;  and  in  the  midst  of  which,  tormented  at  once  by 
its  activities  and  its  apathies,  having  their  work  continually 
thrust  aside  and  dishonoured,  always  seen  to  disadvantage, 
and  overtopped  by  huge  masses,  discordant  and  destructive, 
even  the  best  architects  must  be  unable  to  do  justice  to  their 
own  powers. 

But,  gentlemen,  while  thus  the  mechanisms  of  the  age  pre- 
vent even  the  wisest  and  best  of  its  artists  from  producing 
entirely  good  work,  may  we  not  reflect  with  consternation 
what  a  marvellous  ability  the  luxury  of  the  age,  and  the  very 
advantages  of  education,  confer  on  the  unwise  and  ignoble 
for  the  production  of  attractively  and  infectiously  had  work. 
I  do  not  think  that  this  adverse  influence,  necessarily  afiect- 
ing  all  conditions  of  so-called  civilization,  has  been  ever 
enough  considered.  It  is  impossible  to  calculate  the  power 
of  the  false  workman  in  an  advanced  period  of  national  life, 
nor  the  temptation  to  all  workmen  to  become  false. 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  13 

Ffrst,  there  is  the  irresistible  appeal  to  vanity.  There  is 
hardly  any  temptation  of  the  kind  (there  cannot  be)  while 
the  arts  are  in  progress.  The  best  men  must  then  always  be 
ashamed  of  themselves ;  they  never  can  be  satisfied  with 
their  work  absolutely,  but  only  as  it  is  progressive.  Take, 
for  instance,  any  archaic  head  intended  to  be  beautiful ;  say, 
the  Attic  Athena,  on  the  early  Arethusa  of  Syracuse.  In 
that,  and  in  all  archaic  work  of  promise,  there  is  much  that 
is  inefficient,  much  that  to  us  appears  ridiculous — but  nothing 
sensual,  nothing  vain,  nothing  spurious  or  imitative.  It  is  a 
child's  work,  a  childish  nation's  work,  but  not  a  fool's  work. 
You  find  in  children  the  same  tolerance  of  ugliness,  the  same 
eager  and  innocent  delight  in  their  own  work  for  the 
moment,  however  feeble ;  but  next  day  it  is  thrown  aside, 
and  something  better  is  done.  Now,  in  this  careless  play,  a 
child  or  a  childish  nation  differs  inherently  from  a  foolish 
educated  person,  or  a  nation  advanced  in  pseudo-civilization. 
The  educated  person  has  seen  all  kinds  of  beautiful  things, 
of  which  he  would  fain  do  the  like — not  to  add  to  their  num- 
ber— ^but  for  his  own  vanity,  that  he  also  may  be  called  an 
artist.  Here  is  at  once  a  singular  and  fatal  difference.  The 
childish  nation  sees  nothing  in  its  own  past  work  to  satisfy 
itself.  It  is  pleased  at  havmg  done  this,  but  wants  something 
better ;  it  is  struggling  forward  always  to  reach  this  better, 
this  ideal  conception.     It  wants  more  beauty  to  look  at,  it 


14  THE   STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE. 

wants  more  subject  to  feel.  It  calls  out  to  all  its  artists- 
stretching  its  hands  to  them  as  a  little  child  does — "  Oh,  if 
you  would  but  tell  me  another  story," — "  Oh,  if  I  might  but 
have  a  doll  with  bluer  eyes."  That's  the  right  temper  to 
work  in,  and  to  get  work  done  for  you  in.  But  the  vain, 
aged,  highly-educated  nation  is  satiated  with  beautiful  things 
— it  has  myriads  more  than  it  can  look  at ;  it  has  fallen  into 
a  habit  of  inattention ;  it  passes  weary  and  jaded  through 
galleries  which  contain  the  best  fruit  of  a  thousand  years  of 
human  travail ;  it  gapes  and  shrugs  over  them,  and  pushes  its 
way  past  them  to  the  door.  But  there  is  one  feeling  that  is 
always  distinct ;  however  jaded  and  languid  we  may  be  in  all 
other  pleasures,  we  are  never  languid  in  vanity,  and  we  would 
still  paint  and  carve  for  fame.  "What  other  motive  have  the 
nations  of  Europe  to-day  ?  If  they  wanted  art  for  art's  sake, 
they  would  take  care  of  what  they  have  already  got.  But  at 
this  instant  the  two  noblest  pictures  in  Venice  are  lying 
rolled  up  in  out-houses,  and  the  noblest  portrait  of  Titian  in 
existence  is  hung  forty  feet  from  the  ground.  We  have 
absolutely  no  motive  but  vanity  and  the  love  of  money — no 
others,  as  nations,  than  these,  whatever  we  may  have  as  indi- 
viduals. And  as  the  thirst  of  vanity  thus  increases,  so  the 
temptation  to  it.  There  was  no  fame  of  artists  in  these 
archaic  days.  Every  year,  every  hour,  saw  some  one  rise  to 
surpass  what  had  been  done  before.     And  there  was  always 


THE  STUDY   OF  ARCHITECTURE.  15 

better  work  to  be  done,  but  never  any  credit  to  be  got  by  it. 
The  artist  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  pei-petual,  wholesome, 
inevitable  eclipse.  Do  as  well  as  you  choose  to-day, — make 
the  whole  Borgo  dance  with  delight,  they  would  dance  to  a 
better  man's  pipe  to-morrow.  Credette  Cimahue  nella  pit- 
tura^  tener  lo  campo,  et  or  a  ha  Giotto  il  grido.  This  was  the 
fate,  the  necessary  fate,  even  of  the  strongest.  They  could 
only  hope  to  be  remembered  as  links  in  an  endless  chain. 
For  the  weaker  men  it  was  no  use  even  to  put  their  name  on 
their  works.  They  did  not.  If  they  could  not  work  for  joy 
and  for  love,  and  take  their  part  simply  in  the  choir  of  human 
toil,  they  might  throw  up  their  tools.  But  now  it  is  far 
otherwise— now,  the  best  having  been  done — and  for  a  couple 
of  hundred  years,  the  best  of  us  being  confessed  to  have 
come  short  of  it,  everybody  thinks  that  he  may  be  the  great 
man  once  again;  and  this  is  certain,  that  whatever  in  art  is 
done  for  display,  is  invariably  wrong. 

But,  secondly,  consider  the  attractive  power  of  false  art, 
completed,  as  compared  with  imperfect  art  advancing  to 
completion.  Archaic  work,  so  far  as  faultful,  is  repulsive ; 
but  advanced  work  is,  in  all  its  faults,  attractive.  The 
moment  that  art  has  reached  the  point  at  which  it  becomes 
sensitively  and  delicately  imitative,  it  appeals  to  a  new 
audience.  From  that  instant  it  addresses  the  sensualist  and 
the  idler.    Its  deceptions,  its  successes,  its  subtleties,  become 


16  THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTUEE. 

interesting  to  every  condition  of  folly,  of  frivolity,  and  of 
vice.  And  this  new  audience  brings  to  bear  upon  the  art  in 
wbich  its  foolish  and  wicked  interest  has  been  unhappily 
awakened,  the  full  power  of  its  riches  :  the  largest  bribes  of 
gold  as  well  as  of  praise  are  offered  to  the  artist  who  will 
betray  his  art,  until  at  last,  from  the  sculpture  of  Phidias  and 
fresco  of  Luini,  it  sinks  into  the  cabinet  ivory  and  the  picture 
kept  under  lock  and  key.  Between  these  highest  and  lowest 
types,  there  is  a  vast  mass  of  merely  imitative  and  delicately 
sensual  sculpture ;  veiled  nymphs — chained  slaves — soft  god- 
desses seen  by  rose-light  through  suspended  curtains — draw- 
ing-room portraits  and  domesticities,  and  such  like,  in  which 
the  interest  is  either  merely  personal  and  selfish,  or  dramatic 
and  sen-sational ;  in  either  case,  destructive  of  the  power  of 
the  public  to  sympathize  with  the  aims  of  great  architects. 

Gentlemen,  I  am  no  Puritan,  and  have  never  praised  or 
advocated  Puritanical  art.  The  two  pictures  which  I  would 
last  part  with  out  of  our  National  Gallery,  if  there  were 
question  of  parting  with  any,  would  be  Titian's  Bacchus  and 
Correggio's  Venus.  But  the  noble  naturalism  of  these  was 
the  fruit  of  ages  of  previous  courage,  continence,  and  reli- 
gion— it  was  the  fulness  of  passion  in  the  life  of  a  Britomart. 
But  the  mid  age  and  old  age  of  nations  is  not  like  the  mid  age 
or  old  age  of  noble  women.  National  decrepitude  must  be 
criminal.     National  death  can  only  be  by  disease,  and  yet  it 


THE   STUDY   ©F   ARCHITECTURE.  17 

is  almost  impossible,  out  of  the  history  of  the  art  of  nations, 
to  elicit  the  true  conditions  relating  to  its  decline  in  any 
demonstrable  manner.  The  history  of  Italian  art  is  that  of  a 
struggle  between  superstition  and  naturalism  on  one  side, 
between  continence  and  sensuality  on  another.  So  far  as 
naturalism  prevailed  over  superstition,  there  is  always  pro- 
gress; so  far  as  sensuality  over  chastity,  death.  And  the 
two  contests  are  simultaneous.  It  is  impossible  to  distin- 
guish one  victory  from  the  other.  Observe,  however,  I  say 
victory  over  superstition,  not  over  religion.  Let  me  carefully 
define  the  difference.  Superstition,  in  all  times  and  among 
all  nations,  is  the  fear  of  a  spirit  whose  passions  are  those  of 
a  man,  whose  acts  are  the  acts  of  a  man ;  who  is  present  in 
some  places,  not  in  others;  who  makes  some  places  holy,  and 
not  others ;  who  is  kind  to  one  person,  unkind  to  another ; 
who  is  pleased  or  angry  accordmg  to  the  degree  of  attention 
you  pay  to  him,  or  praise  you  refuse  to  him  ;  who  is  hostile 
generally  to  human  pleasure,  but  may  be  bribed  by  sacrifice 
of  a  part  of  that  pleasure  into  permitting  the  rest.  This, 
whatever  form  of  faith  it  colours,  is  the  essence  of  superstition. 
And  religion  is  the  belief  in  a  Spirit  whose  mercies  are  over 
all  His  works — who  is  kind  even  to  the  unthankful  and  the 
evil ;  who  is  everywhere  present,  and  therefore  is  in  no  place 
to  be  sought,  and  in  no  place  to  be  evaded ;  to  whom  all 
creatures,  times,  and  things  are  everlastingly  holy,  and  whc 


18  THE  STUDY  OF  AflCHITECTURE. 

claims — ^not  tithes  of  wealth,  nor  sevenths  of  days — ^but  all 
the  wealth  that  we  have,  and  all  the  days  that  we  live,  and 
all  the  beings  that  we  are,  but  who  claims  that  totality 
because  He  delights  only  in  the  delight  of  His  creatures  ;  and 
because,  therefore,  the  one  duty  that  they  owe  to  Him,  and 
the  only  service  they  can  render  Him,  is  to  be  happy.  A 
Spirit,  therefore,  Avhose  eternal  benevolence  cannot  be 
angered,  cannot  be  appeased;  whose  laws  are  everlasting 
and  inexorable,,  so  that  heaven  and  earth  must  indeed  pass 
away  if  one  jot  of  them  failed :  laws  which  attach  to  every 
wrong  and  error  a  measured,  inevitable  penalty;  to  every 
rightness  and  prudence,  an  assured  reward ;  penalty,  of  which 
the  remittance  cannot  be  purchased ;  and  reward,  of  which 
the  promise  cannot  be  broken. 

And  thus,  in  the  history  of  art,  we  ought  continually  to 
endeavour  to  distinguish  (while,  except  in  broadest  lights,  it 
is  impossible  to  distinguish)  the  work  of  religion  from  that  of 
superstition,  and  the  work  of  reason  from  that  of  infidelity. 
Religion  devotes  the  artist,  hand  and  mind,  to  the  service  of 
the  gods ;  superstition  makes  him  the  slave  of  ecclesiastical 
pride,  or  forbids  his  work  altogether,  in  terror  or  disdain, 
lieligion  perfects  the  form  of  the  divine  statue ;  superstition 
distorts  it  into  ghastly  grotesque.  Religion  contemplates  the 
gods  as  the  lords  of  healing  and  life,  surrounds  them  with 
glory  of  affectionate  service,   and  festivity  of  pure  human 


THE   STUDY   OF  ARCHITECTUKE.  19 

beauty.  Superstition  contemplates  its  idols  as  lords  of  death, 
appeases  them  with  blood,  and  vows  itself  to  them  in  torture 
and  solitude.  Religion  proselytizes  by  love,  superstition  by 
war;  religion  teaches  by  example,  superstition  by  persecu- 
tion. Religion  gave  granite  shrine  to  the  Egyptian,  golden 
temple  to  the  Jew,  sculptured  corridor  to  the  Greek,  pillared 
aisle  and  frescoed  wall  to  the  Christian.  Superstition  made 
idols  of  the  splendours  by  which  religion  had  spoken :  reve- 
renced pictures  and  stones,  instead  of  truths ;  letters  and  laws 
instead  of  acts ;  and  for  ever,  in  various  madness  of  fantastic 
desolation,  kneels  in  the  temple  whUe  it  crucifies  the  Christ. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  reason  resisting  superstition,  we  owe 
the  entire  compass  of  modern  energies  and  sciences :  the 
healthy  laws  of  life,  and  the  possibilities  of  future  progress. 
But  to  infidelity  resisting  religion  (or  which  is  often  enough 
the  case,  taking  the  mask  of  it),  we  owe  sensuality,  cruelty 
and  war,  insolence  and  avarice,  modern  political  economy, 
life  by  conservation  of  forces,  and  salvation  by  every  man's 
looking  after  his  own  interests ;  and  generally,  whatsoever 
of  guilt,  and  folly,  and  death,  there  is  abroad  among  us. 
And  of  the  two,  a  thousand-fold  rather  let  us  retain  some 
colour  of  superstition,  so  that  we  may  keep  also  some 
strength  of  religion,  than  comfort  ourselves  with  colour  jf 
reason  for  the  desolation  of  godlessness.  I  would  say  to 
every  youth  who  entered  our   schools — be  a  Mahometan,  a 


20  THE   STUDY   OF   ARCHITECTURE. 

Diana-worshipper,  a  Fire-worshipper,  Root-worshipper,  if 
you  will ;  but  at  least  be  so  much  a  man  as  to  know  what 
worship  means.  I  had  rather,  a  million-fold  rather,  see  you 
one  of  those  "  quibus  hseo  nascuntur  in  hortis  numina,"  than 
one  of  those  quibus  haec  non  nascuntur  in  cordibus  lumina ; 
and  who  are,  by  everlasting  orphanage,  divided  from  the 
Father  of  Spirits,  who  is  also  the  Father  of  lights,  from 
whom  Cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift. 

"  So  much  of  man,"  I  say,  feeling  profoundly  that  all  right 
exercise  of  any  human  gift,  so  descended  from  the  Giver  of 
good,  depends  on  the  primary  formation  of  the  character  of 
true  manliness  in  the  youth, — that  is  to  say,  of  a  majestic, 
grave,  and  deliberate  strength.  How  strange  the  words 
sound;  how  little  does  it  seem  possible  to  conceive  of 
majesty,  and  gravity,  and  deliberation  in  the  daily  track  of 
modern  life.  Yet,  gentlemen,  we  need  not  hope  that  our 
work  will  be  majestic  if  there  is  no  majesty  in  ourselves. 
The  word  "  manly"  has  come  to  mean  practically,  among  us, 
a  schoolboy's  character,  not  a  man's.  "We  are,  at  our  best, 
thoughtlessly  impetuous,  fond  of  adventure  and  excitement ; 
curious  in  knowledge  ibr  its  novelty,  not  for  its  system  and 
results ;  faithful  and  aiFectionate  to  those  among  whom  we 
are  by  chance  cast,  but  gently  and  calmly  insolent  to  stran- 
gers ;  we  are  stupidly  conscientious,  and  instinctively  brave, 
and  always  ready  to  cast  away  the  lives  we  take  no  pains  to 


THE   STUDY   OF  ARCHITECTURE.  21 

make  valuable,  in  causes  of  which  we  have  never  ascertained 
the  justice.  This  is  our  highest  type — notable  peculiarly 
among  nations  for  its  gentleness,  together  with  its  courage  ; 
but  in  lower  conditions  it  is  especially  liable  to  degradation 
by  its  love  of  jest  and  of  vulgar  sensation.  It  is  against  this 
fatal  tendency  to  vile  play  that  we  have  chiefly  to  contend. 
It  is  the  spirit  of  Milton's  Comus ;  bestial  itself,  but  having 
power  to  arrest  and  paralyze  all  who  come  within  its 
influence,  even  pure  creatures  sitting  helpless,  mocked  by  it 
on  their  marble  thrones.  It  is  incompatible,  not  only  with  all 
greatness  of  character,  but  with  all  true  gladness  of  heart, 
and  it  develops  itself  in  nations  in  proportion  to  their  degra- 
dation, connected  with  a  peculiar  gloom  and  a  singular  ten- 
dency to  play  with  death,  which  is  a  morbid  reaction  from 
the  morbid  excess. 

A  book  has  lately  been  published  on  the  Mythology  of  the 
Rhine,  with  illustrations  by  Gustavo  Dor6.  The  Rhine  god 
is  represented  in  the  vignette  title-page  with  a  pipe  in  one 
hand  and  a  pot  of  beer  in  the  other.  You  cannot  have  a 
more  complete  type  of  the  tendency  which  is  chiefly  to  be 
dreaded  in  this  age  than  in  this  conception,  as  opposed  to 
any  possibility  of  representation  of  a  river-god,  however 
playful,  in  the  mind  of  a  Greek  painter.  The  example  is  the 
more  notable  because  Gustavo  Dore's  is  not  a  common  mind, 
and,  if  born  in  any  other  epoch,  he  would  probably  have 


22  THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTUEE. 

done  valuable  (though  never  first-rate)  work ;  but  by  glanc- 
ing (it  will  be  impossible  for  you  to  do  more  than  glance)  at 
his  illustrations  of  Balzac's  "  Contes  Drolatiques,"  you  will 
see  further  how  this  "  drolatique,"  or  semi-comic  mask,  is,  in 
the  truth  of  it,  the  mask  of  a  skull,  and  how  the  tendency  to 
burlesque  jest  is  both  in  France  and  England  only  an  efferves- 
cence from  the  cloaca  maxima  of  the  putrid  instincts  which 
fasten  themselves  on  national  sin,  and  are  in  the  midst  of  the 
luxury  of  European  capitals,  what  Dante  meant  when  he 
wrote,  quel  mi  sveglio  col  puzzo^  of  the  body  of  the  "Wealth- 
Siren  ;  the  mocking  levity  and  mocking  gloom  being  equally 
signs  of  the  death  of  the  soul ;  just  as,  contrariwise, 
a  passionate  seriousness  and  passionate  joyfulness  are  signs 
of  its  full  life  in  works  such  as  those  of  Angelico,  Luini, 
Ghiberti,  or  La  Robbia. 

It  is  to  recover  this  stern  seriousness,  this  pure  and  thrill- 
ing joy,  together  with  perpetual  sense  and  spiritual  presence, 
that  all  true  education  of  youth  must  now  be  directed.  This 
seriousness,  this  passion,  this  universal  human  religion,  are 
the  first  principles,  the  true  roots  of  all  art,  as  they  are  of  all 
doing,  of  all  being.  Get  this  vis  viva  first  and  all  great 
work  will  follow.  Lose  it,  and  your  schools  of  art  will  stand 
among  other  living  schools  as  the  frozen  corpses  stand  by  the 
winding  stair  of  the  St.  Michael's  Convent  of  Mont  Cenis, 
holding  their  hands  stretched  out  under  their  shrouds,  as  if 


THE   STUDY   OF  ARCHITECTURE.  23 

beseeching  the  passer-by  to  look  upon  the  wasting  of  their 
death. 

And  all  the  higher  branches  of  technical  teaching  are  vain 
without  this ;  nay,  are  in  some  sort  vain  altogether,  for  they 
are  superseded  by  this.  You  may  teach  imitation,  because 
the  meanest  man  can  imitate  ;  but  you  can  neither  teach  ideal- 
ism nor  composition,  because  only  a  great  man  can  choose, 
conceive,  or  compose  ;  and  he  does  all  these  necessarily,  and 
because  of  his  nature.  His  greatness  is  in  his  choice  of  things, 
in  his  analysis  of  them ;  and  his  combining  powers  involve 
the  totality  of  his  knowledge  in  life.  His  methods  of  obser- 
vation and  abstraction  are  essential  habits  of  his  thought,  con- 
ditions of  his  being.  If  he  looks  at  a  human  form  he  recog- 
nises the  signs  of  nobility  in  it,  and  loves  them — hates  what- 
ever is  diseased,  frightful,  sinful,  or  designant  of  decay.  All 
ugliness,  and  abortion,  and  fading  away ;  all  signs  of  vice 
and  foulness,  he  turns  away  from,  as  inherently  diabolic  and 
horrible ;  all  signs  of  unconquered  emotion  he  regrets,  as 
weaknesses.  He  looks  only  for  the  calm  purity  of  the 
human  creature,  in  living  conquest  of  its  passions  and  of 
fate. 

That  is  idealism ;  but  you  cannot  teach  any  one  else  tha 
preference.     Take  a  man  who  likes  to  see  and  paint  the  gam 
bier's   rage ;   the  hedge-ruffian's  enjoyment ;   the  debauched 
soldier's   stiife ;  the   vicious  woman's  degradation ; — take  a 


24  THE  STUDY   OF  ARCHITECTURE. 

man  fed  ou  the  dusky  picturesque  of  rags  and  guilt ;  talk  to 
him  of  principles  of  beauty !  make  him  draw  what  you  will, 
how  you  will,  he  will  leave  the-  stain  of  himself  on  whatever 
he  touches.  You  had  better  go  lecture  to  a  snail,  and  tell  it 
to  leave  no  slime  behind  it.  Try  to  make  a  mean  man  com- 
pose; you  will  find  nothing  in  his  thoughts  consecutive  or 
proportioned — nothing  consistent  in  his  sight — nothing  in  his 
fancy.  He  cannot  comprehend  two  things  in  relation  at  once 
— how  much  less  twenty  !  How  much  less  all !  Everything 
is  uppermost  with  him  in  its  turn,  and  each  as  large  as  the 
rest;  but  Titian  or  Veronese  compose  as  tranquilly  as  they 
would  speak — inevitably.  The  thing  comes  to  them  so — 
they  see  it  so — rightly,  and  in  harmony :  they  will  not  talk 
to  you  of  composition,  hardly  even  understanding  how  lower 
people  see  things  otherwise,  but  knowing  that  if  they  do  see 
otherwise,  there  is  for  them  the  end  there,  talk  as  you  will. 

I  had  intended,  in  conclusion,  gentlemen,  to  incur  such 
blame  of  presumption  as  might  be  involved  in  offering  some 
hints  for  present  practical  methods  in  architectural  schools, 
but  here  again  I  am  checked,  as  I  have  been  throughout,  by 
a  sense  of  the  uselessness  of  all  minor  means  and  helps,  with- 
out the  establishment  of  a  true  and  broad  educational  sys- 
tem. My  wish  would  be  to  see  the  profession  of  the  archi- 
tect united,  not  with  that  of  the  engineer,  but  of  the  sculp- 
tor.    I  think  there  should  be  a  separate  school  and  university 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTUEE.  25 

course  for  engineers,  in  which  the  principal  branches  of  study- 
connected  with  that  of  practical  buil'ding  should  be  the  phy- 
sical and  exact  sciences,  and  honours  should  be  taken  i 
mathematics  ;  but  I  think  there  should  be  another  school  and 
university  course  for  the  sculptor  and  architect  in  which  lite- 
rature and  philosophy  should  be  the  associated  branches  of 
study,  and  honours  should  be  taken  in  Uteris  tiumaniorihus , 
and  I  think  a  young  architect's  examination  for  his  degree 
(for  mere  pass),  should  be  much  stricter  than  that  of  youths 
intending  to  enter  other  professions.  The  quantity  of 
scholarship  necessary  for  the  efficiency  of  a  country  clergy- 
man is  not  great.  So  that  he  be  modest  and  kindly,  the 
main  truths  he  has  to  teach  may  be  learned  better  in  his 
heart  than  in  books,  and  taught  in  very  simple  English.  The 
best  physicians  I  have  known  spent  very  little  time  in  their 
libraries;  and  though  my  lawyer  sometimes  chats  with  me 
over  a  Greek  coin,  I  think  he  regards  the  time  so  spent  in 
the  light  rather  of  concession  to  my  idleness  than  as  helpful 
to  his  professional  labours. 

But  there  is  no  task  undertaken  by  a  true  architect  of 
Vhich  the  honourable  fulfilment  will  not  require  a  range  of 
knowledge  and  habitual  feeling  only  attainable  by  advanced 
scholarship. 

Since,  however,  such  expansion  of  system  is,  at  present,. 

beyond  hope,  the  best  we  can  do  is  to  render  the  studies 

2 


26  THE   STUDY  OF   ARCHITECTUKE. 

undertaken  in  our  schools  thoughtful,  reverent,  and  refined, 
according  to  our  power.  Especially  it  should  be  our  aim  to 
prevent  the  minds  of  the  students  from  being  distracted  by 
models  of  an  unworthy  or  mixed  character.  A  museum  is 
one  thing — a  school  another ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  as  the 
efiiciency  of  a  school  of  literature  depends  on  the  mastering 
a  few  good  books,  so  the  efiiciency  of  a  school  of  art  will 
depend  on  the  understanding  a  few  good  models.  And  so 
strongly  do  I  feel  this  that  I  would,  for  my  own  part,  at  once 
consent  to  sacrifice  my  personal  predilections  in  art,  and  to 
vote  for  the  exclusion  of  all  Gothic  or  Mediaeval  models  what- 
soever, if  by  this  sacrifice  I  could  obtain  also  the  exclusion  of 
Byzantine,  Indian,  Renaissance-French,  and  other  more  or 
less  attractive  but  barbarous  work  ;  and  thus  concentrate  the 
mind  of  the  student  wholly  upon  the  study  of  natural  form, 
and  upon  its  treatment  by  the  sculptors  and  metal  workers 
of  Greece,  Ionia,  Sicily,  and  Magna  GrsBcia,  between  500  and 
350  B.C.,  but  I  should  hope  that  exclusiveness  need  not  be 
carried  quite  so  far. 

I  think  Donatello,  Mino  of  Fiesole,  the  Robbias,  Ghiberti, 
Verrocchio,  and  Michael  Angel o,  should  be  adequately  repre- 
sented in  our  schools — together  with  the  Greeks — and  that  a 
few  carefully  chosen  examples  of  the  floral  sculpture  of  the 
iN'orth  in  the  thirteenth  century  should  be  added,  with  espe- 
cial view  to  display  the  treatment  of  naturalistic  ornament  in 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  27 

subtle  connexion  with  constructive  requirements  ;  and  in  the 
course  of  study  pursued  with  reference  to  these  models,  as 
of  admitted  perfection,  I  should  endeavour  first  to  make  the 
student  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  natural  forms  and 
characters  of  the  objects  he  had  to  treat,  and  then  to  exercise 
him  in  the  abstraction  of  these  forms,  and  the  suggestion  of 
these  characters,  under  due  sculptural  limitation.  He  should 
first  be  taught  to  draw  largely  and  simply ;  then  he  should 
make  quick  and  firm  sketches  of  flowers,  animals,  drapery, 
and  figures,  from  nature,  in  the  simplest  terms  of  line,  and 
light,  and  shade ;  always  being  taught  to  look  at  the  organic 
actions  and  masses,  not  at  the  textures  or  accidental  eJOfects 
of  shade  ;  meantime  his  sentiment  respecting  all  these  things 
should  be  cultivated  by  close  and  constant  inquiry  into  their 
mythological  significance  and  associated  traditions;  then, 
knowing  the  things  and  creatures  thoroughly,  and  regarding 
them  through  an  atmosphere  of  enchanted  memory,  he 
should  be  shown  how  the  facts  he  has  taken  so  long  to  learn 
are  summed  up  by  a  great  sculptor  in  a  few  touches :  how 
those  touches  are  invariably  arranged  in  musical  and  decora- 
tive relations  ;  how  every  detail  unnecessary  for  his  purpose 
IS  refused  ;  how  those  necessary  for  his  purpose  are  insisted 
upon,  or  even  exaggerated,  or  represented  by  singular  arti- 
fice, when  literal  representation  is  impossible ;  and  how  all 
this  is  done  under  the  instinct  and  passion  of  an  inner  com- 


28  THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE. 

manding  spirit  which  it  is  indeed  impossible  to  imitate,  but 
possible,  perhaps,  to  share. 

Perhaps!  Pardon  me  that  I  speak  despondingly.  For 
my  own  part,  I  feel  the  force  of  mechanism  and  the  fury  of 
avaricious  commerce  to  be  at  present  so  irresistible,  that  I 
have  seceded  from  the  study  not  only  of  architecture,  but 
nearly  of  all  art ;  and  have  given  myself,  as  I  would  in  a 
besieged  city,  to  seek  the  best  modes  of  getting  bread  and 
water  for  its  multitudes,  there  remaining  no  question,  it 
seems  to  me,  of  other  than  such  grave  business  for  the  time. 
But  there  is,  at  least,  this  ground  for  courage,  if  not  for 
hope :  As  the  evil  spirits  of  avarice  and  luxury  are  directly 
contrary  to  art,  so,  also,  art  is  directly  contrary  to  them ; 
and  according  to  its  force  expulsive  of  them  and  medicinal 
against  them ;  so  that  the  establishment  of  such  schools  as  I 
have  ventured  to  describe — whatever  their  immediate  suc- 
cess or  ill-success  in  the  teaching  of  art — would  yet  be  the 
directest  method  of  resistance  to  those  conditions  of  evil 
among  which  our  youth  are  cast  at  the  most  critical  period 
of  their  lives.  We  may  not  be  able  to  produce  architecture, 
but,  at  the  least,  we  shall  resist  vice.  I  do  not  know  if  it 
has  been  observed  that  while  Dante  rightly  connects  archi- 
tecture, as  the  most  permanent  expression  of  the  pride  of 
humanity,  whether  just  or  unjust,  with  the  first  cornice  of 
Purgatory,  he  indicates  its  noble  function  by  engraving  upon 


THE  STUDY  OF  ARCHITECTURE.  29 

it,  in  perfect  sculpture,  the  stories  which  rebuke  the  errors 
and  purify  the  purposes  of  noblest  souls.  In  the  fulfilment 
of  such  function,  literally  and  practically,  here  among  men, 
is  the  only  real  use  or  piide  of  noble  architecture,  and  on  its 
acceptance  or  surrender  of  that  function  it  depends  whether, 
in  future,  the  cities  of  England  melt  into  a  ruin  more  con- 
fused and  ghastly  than  ever  storm  wasted  or  wolf  inhabited, 
or  purge  and  exalt  themselves  into  true  habitations  of 
men,  whose  walls  shall  be  Safety,  and  whose  gates  shall  be 
Praise, 


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